


1: Welcome to the Mighty Nein

by Ubdqelliot



Series: Raelan and the Mighty Nein [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Conversations, Awkward first encounters, Canon-Typical Violence, First Meetings, Gen, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Pumats are parental unit, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character, Zadash (Critical Role), gender-affirming disguise self, high charisma awkward boy, its gonna take a while to build up im sorry lmao, no beta we die like men, series formatting is weird lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28201281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ubdqelliot/pseuds/Ubdqelliot
Summary: A stranger stumbles onto the Mighty Nein while they are in Zadash for the first time, and takes an interest in the group. After a series of passive encounters, the outsider finally gets a chance to know them. It... doesn't go well, but at least they tried.
Series: Raelan and the Mighty Nein [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065896
Kudos: 6





	1. First Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting on AO3, be kind lmao. This story is formatted weirdly, and is sorted into Chapters, which will be posted as separate works and part of the same series. This is the first chapter, wherein my trainwreck OC stumbles his way into the Nein.

Glancing around the mystical, intriguing shop, the auburn-haired man folded his arms across his chest. He’d recounted how much gold he’d had many times, and still fell just short of what was required for the object of his interest. For the third time still, he poured out his coin sack on one of the side tables, counting how much he had with him. The amount didn’t change, and he knew that in all the kindness of the Pumats, they were growing frustrated with him.

“Respectfully, my dear horned friend,” the one nearest to him spoke. “I understand you don’t have the coin yet. While I appreciate the patronage, I cannot bring the price down.” An uncomfortable noise left the darker skinned man; he hadn’t meant to imply that.

“I wasn’t asking that, Pumat,” he admitted, glancing up at the _much_ taller figure. “I understand, I’m just… I thought I had enough.” A sigh left his lips, and his face held a crestfallen expression. The blue-skinned man saw such, and across his own lips drew a soft, contemplative frown. “I-I can come back later. I’m sure I’ll find enough work, I just need time.” The man seemed to understand the underlying tones, in spite all his denseness.

“Ah. I see,” he mused, nodding his head slowly in a way only characteristic to the simulacrum companions. “I can’t guarantee the amulet, but I can put some inks aside for your return.” An understanding nod from the red-toned man. “All I ask is half up front.”

 _Oof._ Understandable. He _was_ asking for fifty gold worth of inks, so he supposed it was fair. That was a large amount for most people, and he needed the guarantee. He put a finger up to the firbolg, and began re-counting his coin.

At around this point, the door swung open- a delightful surprise for the four in the room, as it was rare for patronage aside from him. All eyes fell upon the group of people who entered the room. None of them seemed dressed for the weather, or the locale, necessarily. Half seemed to dress in clothes uncharacteristic of the Empire, while the other two seemed only in rags. While heights varied, it was clear there was a small-raced person, a shorter tiefling woman, and two somewhat tall men.

If he were to make a guess, he figured the lot were adventurers, like him, and the idea excited him. The small one’s skin was just about entirely hidden in clothing, but what could be seen behind the bandage was green, at least, he thought so. _A goblin?_ Strange, he thought, especially in this area.

The second shortest, the blue-skinned tiefling, seemed dressed in foreign wear, from the Menagerie Coast seemingly. Her horns curved around her head almost like a ram’s, and her darker blue hair fell just above her shoulders. She just about _skipped_ inside, holding an energy uncharacteristic of… _anyone_ , really. Around her waist was a holy symbol of some sort, and if he were to take a guess it wasn’t of any of the gods around her. Being a foreigner, she probably didn’t know, but it could pose a danger to her.

The third was the other Empire-dressed of the lot; a man about a few inches taller than himself, with short, scraggly light brown/red hair, and a large jacket that fell to his knees. He didn’t seem the type to wield a weapon, especially as he saw no armor or weapons on him. Perhaps a spellslinger of some sort. He was attractive in a scraggly sort of way, and he figured if the man cleaned up a bit he might be more so.

The last was another Menagerie Coast-outfitted man, a half orc likely standing around six foot. On his back was a falchion, likely his weapon of choice. His deep green skin somewhat complimented the browns of his leather armor, but he couldn’t get over the lack of tusks for such an obviously orc-blooded person. Perhaps it was similar to his own situation…?

He didn’t have much more time to think as the crowd spoke in loud awe, looking around with surprise and joy at the surroundings. The Pumat working with him greeted them with joy and gave him a glance that told him he would return when a decision was made.

The attractive man was the first to pipe up, speaking in uncertain, awkward words and an accent- zemnian, he realized, with an intrigued smirk. Pumat replied, in his happy and dopey manner, and everyone seemed joyfully aghast at the tall man. For as strange at the crew was, they saw stranger, and it was amusing to watch; he let out a small chuckle as he saw this. The red-haired man seemed almost… _giddy_.

As the man spoke of what he needed, the Pumat interrupted him gently with a soft wave of an outstretched arm. “Before we can get to that, I just have to say.” _Oh boy, this ought to be hilarious._ “You’re- respectfully- terribly filthy.” He, as well as the companions of the man, had to do their best to suppress a laugh at this. Some of them even seemed surprised he brought it up, though not from a place of anger. Without missing a beat, the firbolg continued. “And this is an establishment that I have to insist requires some more cleanliness.” With that, he spied the gestures of a _prestidigitation_ spell, and all the dirt caked into the man’s skin cleared away.

In hindsight, his previous assumption was not incorrect. The man _was_ significantly more attractive once no longer buried under layers of lingering filth.

Of course, the strange goblinoid companion began freaking out, though the witness couldn’t tell if it was out of genuine confusion or for the sake of the joke. “What have you done to Caleb?!” She screamed.

 _Ah._ So that was the handsome man’s name. _Caleb._

Of course, Pumat didn’t seem to mind the burst of emotion that came from the small humanoid, and simply ended up patting the smaller one’s head with his significantly larger hand. This somehow seemed to calm them down, and the blue-skinned one turned to complimenting the man.

Hilariously enough, this seemed to be the other Pumats cue to turn around and join the conversation. The groups confusion was… hilarious. What was moreso was the fact the tiefling’s eyes widened with joy, and she beside her appeared an exact replica of her, imitating her movements. Seeing as the watcher knew the true nature of the Pumat’s collective existence, he knew that the magic to create this double wasn’t the same kind as the triplets. Of course, the Pumat didn’t, at least, not at first. This lead to an amusing moment of overjoy and excitement.

Apparently, the tiefling was named Jester. A virtue name, more than likely, if he knew anything about the culture of his kin. If not, more power to her.

The Pumats then introduced themself to the quartet and the bystander turned back to his coin, turning an ear to pay attention to the chaos. This would certainly be a tale to tell his Mistress later.

The redhead began to ask more questions, firstly into the nature of the Pumats. He seemed one studied in the arcane, and the Pumat was having trouble explaining it to someone he thought wouldn’t understand the intricacies of it all. So the bystander decided to pipe up.

“They’re simulacrum.” The sudden introduction of the man into the conversation seemed to surprise the lot of them, and they all, Pumats included, turned to look at him. “They help Prime in enchanting and around the store. Since Prime is the only one who can actually expend magic, he’s always busy in the back.” Understanding, yet more questions sparked in the man’s eyes.

“And you are?” The goblinoid piped up, suddenly suspicious.

“A patron,” a secondary Pumat mused, turning over to continue discussion with him. He had the coin separated out, but in all honesty, he wanted to stall to see what other shenanigans would occur. After all, it wasn’t everyday an out-of-town adventuring party met firbolg simulacrum triplets in a magic store.

Upon hearing the request of the zemnian man, his eyes lit up. _Expensive ink and paper._ So the man was a wizard, or at least an aspiring one like himself. His eyes widened again once he heard the amount. _150 gold!_ Jesus. He didn’t even have enough for 50 gold worth. Pumat agreed he had the amount necessary, but inquired further as to the kind of inks he was looking for. Once it was further explained, the Pumat smiled, a brief glance his way.

“Oh, more wizard stuff, we can do that.” His eyes darted back towards the wizard, and the half-orc’s head tilted in recognition, even in spite of all the chaos. Perhaps he picked up on the implication? He shrugged, turning back towards the second Pumat that now had approached him. As he pushed the pile of gold towards the simulacrum, he heard the half-orc inquire about healing potions. _So he was correct._

Even amidst the pleasantries, he overheard the half-orc’s introduction to the firbolg. _Ford?_ The goblin’s name was… Not? Knot? Strange names, he decided.

“Well, you’re all done here, Mister Rae,” the Pumat before him spoke, drawing his attention- perhaps purposefully- away from the newcomers. “We’ll have your inks waiting for you should you return within the month.”

The witness, Rae, simply nodded at the man with a gentle smile. It was probably best he left anyways. “Thank you so much, Pumats. I promise, I’ll have enough next time.” With that, he begun to turn to leave, a slight wink as he did so.

“Have a nice day!” He called out, before turning his attention back towards the quartet, leaving him to his business as he left the shop.

 _What a strange group,_ Rae thought to himself before turning to search for more work.


	2. Second Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stranger has his second encounter with the adventuring group at the Leaky Tap.

The second time the bystander saw the group was in the Leaky Tap, which isn’t that bizarre when one thought about it. After having followed up on potential leads for work, he had returned to the place he’d grown to call a secondary home, the cold biting at his skin despite it not even being long past sundown. His leather-bound tome clutched to his chest, he pushed open the doors, the wave of somewhat warmth hitting him like an ocean of near-comfort. A sigh escaped his lips, and his favorite tavern worker spied him and simply nodded, throwing his hand up in a gesture of “hold on”.

As per normal, he nodded in response, finding a table to sit at for his dinner and storytelling. The tavern felt busier than normal, for some reason, and it wasn’t until he looked further for his celestial companion that he realized why: an additional six characters filled a table, two-thirds of which he remembered to be the strangers from the Invulnerable Vagrant. Jester, the blue tiefling, Ford(?), the green half-orc, Caleb, the dirty wizard, and Not(?), the goblinoid, though now she was more covered up. With them was a human woman with colors reminiscent of the Cobalt Soul and a purple tiefling with many tattoos and large, decorated horns.

Just as he had this thought, a sensation of fur brushed against him, startling him from his daze. Glancing down, he spied his friend, a tortoiseshell cat that glanced back up at him with expectant purple eyes. “Hey, Ames.” Hefting the cat into his arms and onto his shoulder, he continued to glance around for a spot. He still couldn’t keep his eyes off the strange group; the blue tiefling was at a separate table, playing cards, with the goblin next to her. The purple tiefling was keeping his eyes on her carefully, and the wizard seemed to be in a dazed state.

_Oh._ He saw what was going on. They were trying to cheat.

It wasn’t any of his business, he supposed, bringing his friend to a familiar booth. A small purr ebbed from the feline, an expression of relief at seeing her master again. “I missed you too, Ames.”

Just as he set his friend down on the table, his attention was drawn again to the excitable tiefling he recognized from before. The two she was playing with were starting to get rowdy, likely because they had seen something and were upset at getting swindled. _Uh oh._ His companion quickly glanced at him, and he understood what she was asking.

“ _Do you want me to go over there?”_

He simply shook his head, reaching out a hand to calmingly pet her. “We should be fine,” he whispered to her, glancing to make eye contact with Wessek in hopes his food would arrive soon. Almost as if on cue, the ostentatious tiefling called out for Claudia, and Wessek had to tell them she was off right now.

_“What weirdos,”_ the feline purred, and he simply nodded in agreement, a small smile on his lips. _“You want to befriend them, don’t you?”_ She almost sounded exasperated with him.

“Hey, have you seen the money they’ve been spending? I’ll take being a bit odd if it means making that kind of gold,” he told her.

_“If you say so.”_ She mewed before curling up against the side of the wall, lying in such a way that she could still keep her icy purple eyes on everything.

In spite of all that was going on, he managed to find some peace to open up his tome and begin writing. Oh, he had quite a tale to tell the Mistress. She’d love to have any information he had to offer about these bizarre strangers, especially if they were making waves in Zadash.

He hoped he’d have a better chance to talk to them later.


	3. Proper Introductions and First Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of the Kryn attack on Zadash, the stranger has his first proper meeting with the new adventuring party and names are exchanged. Soon after that, the lot have their first encounter with a drow assassin.

It was stupid, he admitted in hindsight, to follow the band of strangers into the sewer. Everyone was on edge, justifiably so, due to the explosion at the High Richter’s and the fall of the Tri-Spires. He didn’t exactly know at first what their involvement was, but he needed answers, he decided.

Which lead to him pressed against the sewer wall, quarterstaff to his throat, barely able to breathe as he was interrogated.

He did his best to explain himself, though of course most answers were unsatisfactory simply because he himself didn’t know half of his motives. Whatever they were caught up in put them all on edge, especially the goblin girl, who recognized him from the shop and the tavern. This lead to further interrogation and suspicion of stalking, which he then had to explain it was _just_ a series of coincidences, likely inspired by the fact they were both adventurers, thus they walked similar paths in Zadash.

Ultimately, the purple man brushed the cobalt-clothed woman away from the outsider, instead offering his hand for a shake. “The name’s Mollymauk; Molly to my friends.” His gaze finished the statement: _you are not to call me Molly._ Understandable, he supposed.

Carefully, he accepted the greeting, clothed hand wrapped in the fellow tiefling’s. “Raelan. Rae to mine,” he returned, eyes watching the reaction of the strange man. He didn’t bother reacting to his hidden familiar’s telepathic remark.

_“Not that you exactly have any.”_

The purple man smirked, almost appreciating the gall of the stranger. He pulled away, red eyes following him with care. Behind him, the stressed red-haired man piped up, placing a hand on Mollymauk’s shoulder. “We don’t have time for this. We need to leave.” Everyone nodded, although wary at the inclusion of the newcomer.

“I’ll keep an eye on him. You all go ahead of me,” the half-orc volunteered, and with silent agreement everyone began sneaking further into the maze of sewers. The familiarity within their eyes wasn’t lost to him; they probably used it to get _into_ the district.

Behind him, he felt a gentle shove to his upper back. Having been lost in his thoughts, he turned to see the half-orc’s stern gaze on him. The tiefling eased away, trying not to show unease at the physical contact. “I’d prefer you not touch me, I’m compliant,” he spoke, though the slight quiver was not lost.

Everyone continued forward in a uniform pattern, trudging their way through. He felt the temptation to fuck with Ford’s head, to begin a conversation without speaking to see exactly how long it took him to realize the silence, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the risk. Instead, he peered ahead, watching the group and keeping an eye out for danger in the near-dark.

It wasn’t long until they saw blood. It took the wizard’s casting of _dancing lights_ to discern the color, but it was very obvious amidst the intersection. From there, they saw the bleeding figure. It took an admittedly comedic amount of time to react, but once they did, fear shook everyone. It didn’t take too long to realize, at least for him, that this was a Dynasty agent, what with the dark elven skin and insectoid armor. In his hand was the handle of a cannonball sized dodecahedron of pitch black, from which the stranger began putting it all together.

The chaos outside was the Dynasty’s doing. They were trying to steal something, likely this dodecahedron, but they were spotted.

This person was _very_ dangerous.

Ford moved forward, placing his hand on his chest and muttering a few arcane words. While he didn’t know the spell, as it wasn’t in his repertoire, he saw the icy crystals that began to crawl across his skin, creating a layer of arcane armor.

The Dynasty figure, now spying the group of seven, spoke in a language unfamiliar to anyone, himself included. The wizard attempted to cast _comprehend languages_ in an attempt to understand, as he noticed by the pinch of soot and salt that was thrown into the air, but the figure, not knowing anything more than arcane gestures, pulled away. A weapon was unsheathed, and they initiated combat, terrified as to the nature of the spell.

The woman in cobalt colors, Beau, as he learned from overheard conversations. She pulled a rope with a hooked device at the end with a brief glance towards Jester, the blue tiefling. In the moment she was holding the wizard up as he realized the consequences of his spellcasting, and due to this distracted moment, the dark-skinned woman instead rushed the dark elf in an attempt to grapple. She swung the rope around him, and the hook tightened upon itself, and she used her strength to keep it closed, thus preventing the man from continuing his movement. She tried to hit him over the head with her elbow, but it hit the helmet and didn’t seem to damage it.

In response, the Dynasty warrior concentrated on it’s offhand, creating an orb of darkness in the center of the area, expanding until it covered the whole area with magic darkness that not even the outsider could see through. Many still had vision around the orb of darkness, but the location of the monk and the warrior was obscured.

Mollymauk rushed around the void, cutting himself with one of his blades as arcane runes began glowing on it, and simply waited. This choice of action seemed to confuse the outsider at first, but in further thought this made some sense.

As he contemplated what actions he should take in this situation, mentally going through the list of spells he knew that may be of use in the situation, the goblin tensed as if considering her action. His eyes darted towards the other wizard, seeing him in a similar sort of situation. In a panic, the orbs of light attributed to his earlier _dancing lights_ moved into the darkness, though dissipating as was the nature of the _darkness._ He’d seen this spell before, as his family had a collection of innate spells from their heritage. Noticing that, the wizard stepped backward as a small orange, tabby or bengal cat darted forward, vanishing into the wall of darkness.

Meanwhile, an answer popped into the newcomer’s head. He noted Caleb’s attempt at communication, as well as the grapple, and decided against magic that might do lethal damage, instead opting to instead pull out his own quarterstaff, muttering words under his breath in hopes his Mistress would grand him the skill necessary for this battle, and moved forward, staff at the ready. His eyes darted around, knowing that should the drow be revealed, he would do what he could to subdue it.

The goblin in that moment seemed to decide her course of action, panic in her eyes as she pulled out a copper wire and pointed to the location she last saw the creature. He could hear her attempt of communication towards the aggressor: “Do not fight us! We are no fans of the empire either! _You can reply to this message._ ” Part of him wondered if she realized it wasn’t necessary to say the last part, but found it humorous, nonetheless. He heard the sound of her footsteps behind him, and figured she might be moving to a more advantageous position.

_These people sure are strange_ , he thought to himself with a gentle smile.

Behind him, he heard the potential cleric preparing a spell, one that seemed _vaguely_ familiar, but not one he knew. Part of him wondered what it was, but he understood more than likely he would find the answer out.

Suddenly, the half-orc’s voice rang out. “Everyone stay here. I’m going to see how far this darkness goes.” He suppressed a chuckle; the man perhaps wasn’t a learned man, nor didn’t have the experience he did with the spell, and likely wouldn’t appreciate his input. As such, he said nothing, instead watching as the taller man sprinted into the darkness as well. Amidst it all, the outsider heard the sound of blade meeting ice; he likely got hit by the warrior, though he heard no sound of pain.

Quick discussion followed. The half-orc let out a surprised noise, and the monk beamed. “Look what I caught!” So it was successful, and she’d managed to pull him from the darkness. _That’s good, he decided._ “Help me subdue him!” She spoke, likely to the same half-orc.

Suddenly, a cry of pain from the woman. _Fuck._ In response, the purple tiefling muttered under his breath and raced through the darkness. From the other side, he could hear an incantation, followed by a threat in infernal. _“Stay where you are!”_

Oh boy.

He sprinted forward, making sure to end up on the other side and no further. In doing so, he thankfully ended up right beside the woman and the warrior, using his forward momentum to hopefully swing and hit the man over the head with the staff. It collided, a pained noise escaping the assassin as it made contact. As that happened, he noticed the same orange tabby from before lightly step out from the darkness, standing just beside him with it’s careful eyes.

In a similar fashion, the goblin girl peeked around the corner of the darkness, eyes fixated on something behind him. It wasn’t until she fired that he realized what she was aiming for- a shadowy version of this same man. _What?_ He’d never seen that kind of magic manifested before, and he had _so_ many questions, yet no time to answer. Once the arrow hit, it was no longer there.

A moment later, Jester came from around the corner, simply letting out a frustrated huff. She let out a small incantation directed in the monk’s direction, and he could barely see some of the severe wounds on the monk’s body close, just a bit. A relieved noise escaped them.

Ford rushed up to the assassin, falchion in hand, yet the blunt end forward. He hit it over the head similarly, though a louder _crack_ erupted from it. Another shadow version of the assassin apparated behind him. The dark-skinned woman then took the opportunity to punch him a few times, knocking the armored helmet open a bit. “We just want to talk to you, dammit!” She spat to him as she did so, which, in all honesty, wasn’t very convincing, if he were to judge.

The creature began to swing at the freshly healed woman, but in response the red-eyed man muttered something under his breath, squeezing blood from his self-inflicted wound as he did so. The drow’s attack seemed to falter a bit, and part of him wondered what it was the strange man was doing. _If I have the opportunity, I’ll ask later._ Unfortunately, it still seemed to make contact with the woman, and pretty badly, as it undid the healing that was done and more. In that moment, the woman fell to the ground, unconscious, and with it, the rope keeping the creature bound.

_Oh fuck._ He knew what he would do when he had the chance, he thought as he reminded himself the incantation for the _spare the dying_ spell.

Now loose, the Dynasty warrior turned towards Ford, who understandably was the bigger threat between the two of them. A moment of horror crossed everyone’s face as they realized that the warrior didn’t swing his blade, but the shadow version instead. The manifested blade ripped into a weaker point in his armor, drawing a pained noise from the man as it dispersed. _Interesting…_

It took the opportunity created by the shadow version to swing instead at the outsider, unable to reach anyone else without him or the other one hitting him. As the serrated blade tore into the front of his clothes, he cursed himself for his lack of armor, fear striking him as he realized the downside to his illusory disguise: _damage didn’t reflect properly._

It seemed that not only the creature, but the cleric noticed this, eyes wide as his blood fell to the ground, seemingly without a source. _Fuck fuck fuck._ Tears welled up in his eyes, the embarrassment and fear more prominent than the pain. With the attack, another shadow of itself manifested.

Either not caring or not noticing, the purple warrior rushed behind it, directly across from the outsider. He attempted to hit it with the blunt end of his scimitars, and would’ve done so in a very damaging way- the breastbone of his damaged armor- had the adversary not exchanged places with the illusory version of itself, placing him instead the opposite side of the half-orc. While he didn’t _entirely_ escape, it put him in a different position, and avoided that potentially brutal attack. The tiefling then darted around the half orc, standing across the creature from the green-skinned man. As he did so, he made eye contact with the newcomer, simply winking to show acknowledgement of what just happened. _Great._

He landed another attack on the man with the handle of his weapon, while not doing a large amount of damage, still doing enough to knock it unconscious. Everyone breathed a quick sigh of relief, but neither the outsider nor the purple tiefling eased.

The former raced towards the unconscious ally on the ground, performing a quick _spare the dying_ to ensure her safety. In the same moment, with the dispelling of the darkness, Jester rushed over, placing her hands upon her friend and casting an actual healing spell. He blinked as he sat back, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. _Right. Of course she still had healing._ He felt the crew’s suspicious gaze on him again, with the exception of the unconscious and busy women, though increased suspicion from the wizard.

“Don’t you do _anything_ ,” the half-orc snapped at the outsider, likely addressing the issue of the illusion. Not wanting to fight anything, he pushed himself against the wall of the sewer, removing his familiar first as to not hurt her in the process.

He watched as the monk coughed back to life, some of her wounds closing. Mollymauk and Ford began searching the warrior and taking his armor off before tying him up. A strange discussion happened due to a miscommunication over whose rope, distracted before the wizard spoke up, standing in front of the outsider. “Can we stop fooling around?” He snapped, and everyone continued what they were doing. As this happened, he stared suspicious daggers at the sitting man, but said nothing more.

_“Don’t.”_ Ames simply purred, and he turned his gaze towards her in confusion. _“It’s not worth raising more suspicion. Just wait silently, don’t speak into his mind.”_

He didn’t realize he even had the thought, but Ames was right. It was better this way. He was just another prisoner of their’s, just with invisible rope. Part of him felt grateful they didn’t decide to _actually_ tie him up.

While the others pulled money and weapons from the drow’s belongings, he took the opportunity to softly mutter the incantation to recast his disguise, allowing for the dirt and wounds he’d gained in the battle. He didn’t like feeling so exposed with the disparity.

A discussion began about what to do with the man, with Mollymauk of the opinion he wasn’t worth the risk of getting caught. The strange dodecahedron drew the wizard’s eye, as it did his, and he piped up. “I need ten minutes; ten minutes with this thing.” The man’s eyes widened, understanding what was going on. He had _identify_ , just as he did.

“I can help,” the illusioned man piped up, drawing all eyes to him. A brief inner conflict occurred, wherein the red-haired man debated whether it was worth the time to be so heavily suspicious. No further words spoken, but the man motioned him over, and he felt pleased to be able to assist in some manner.

With two people doing the ritual, the ten minutes was cut in half as the others continued their discussion. There was a long, heavy silence over the arcane pair, an uncomfortable silence, and the newcomer began wondering whether it was worth it to stick with them. He wanted to get to know them, but they didn’t trust him as far as they could throw him, understandably but frustratingly.

“So… what’s your familiar’s name?” He piped up, an attempt at creating a bond. The man stared at him, eyes almost a death stare before he returned to his work. _Alright, fair enough._

“Frumpkin.”

_What?_ Oh. “That’s nice.” Another awkward silence as they worked. He felt as if he should explain himself, but he didn’t know if it was _worth it._ “I… I’m a warlock,” he explained, once again briefly drawing the eyes of the wizard. “I just… I love magic. I love learning about it and doing it, it’s just… I have a really hard time focusing on anything for as long as it takes to be so skilled in the arcane like people like you.” It felt almost an admission of defeat than an explanation, but he kept going. “My Mistress… she helps teach me. It’s not… it’s not quite the same as your kind of magic, but there’s only so much she can do. That’s why I… I have a weird spattering of spells.”

Silence again. It felt so uncomfortable.

“I-I’m sorry. I really don’t want to be a nuisance. I just want to learn and explore and you all seem like such capable people, so when I saw you guys hide when everything went to shit I thought…” He sighed. He knows he was stupid. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not a danger to you all.”

“Pass the chalk.” His sudden words surprised him for a moment, but he recognized what the man meant quickly. He did so, coughing and looking away, succumbing to the silence as the two worked away. “Pursuit of knowledge is admirable,” he muttered, turning the stranger’s gaze. “I just hold concern for the means.” He sighed, nodding in understanding. “Thank you. For Beau.” He blinked, confused a brief moment.

“Jester had a healing spell, I didn’t do much.”

“No, but you tried. I will not forget that.”

The silence that followed this time wasn’t as painful, but he turned his head away, knowing his face was red from the compliment. His cat purred with amusement, but they continued their work, the tension overhead significantly lessened.

Hopefully he would make a good impression on the rest of them, or at least enough of a not-bad one that he could continue on his way.


	4. Arrival at the Tap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fraction of the party return to the Leaky Tap. Discussions ensue.

Over the course of the next hour or so that it took to return to the tavern, the newcomer couldn’t think properly. His mind was too fixated on the absolute _lack_ of knowledge he and the red-haired man gained from the dodecahedron. He couldn’t stop, his mind _raced_ with questions. Despite his lack of status within the group, letting the drow go with the dodecahedron was the biggest moment of absolute _fear_ , but he didn’t know why.

He couldn’t have been more thankful that the wizard shared his discomfort and interest, ensuring that they did retrieve the device for further inspection. He found the discussion with the Dynasty assassin very insightful, but he was frustrated he didn’t have all the _answers._ If he was able to stick with these people, though, he knew he might be able to get more.

That is to say, if they could learn to trust him.

Caleb, Mollymauk, and Not headed into the cellar around the back with the dodecahedron, and though the frightful pit in his stomach had settled with the thought of inspecting it, abandoning it made it swell. He was confused and upset by the discomfort within him, as well as the fact he could do _nothing._ He was feeling that a lot tonight. He had trouble focusing on _anything_ at this point, overwhelmed by the uncertainty in his chest.

It wasn’t until he heard something about sleeping that he was able to pull himself back into the moment. Apparently, Caleb and Not were going to sleep in the cellar with the dodecahedron, and Mollymauk was going to return upstairs with him. “I want to stay with the beacon,” he piped up, blurting it out without really thinking much on it. The statement surprised the three of them, though it quickly faded from the wizard’s face. “I-I know I don’t get much pull since you don’t know me, but- and I don’t mean to be rude- it seems… you all don’t know each other either?” He realized the way it sounded when Not furrowed her brow. “I just… that thing scares me.” The admission seemed to release some of the tension, but not all.

Caleb nodded, and although he was distrusting of the stranger, he didn’t seem to fight it. Not seemed even more combative at his words, while Mollymauk just seemed contemplative. “How do we know you won’t run away with it in the middle of the night? We don’t even know what you actually _look like_!” She snapped, making the outsider’s heart sink.

“You’ll be with me! Besides, we’re doing the _arcane lock_ and _alarm_ spell! You know, the entire thing you all have been discussing so that nobody _else_ takes it? You’d know if I did and would stop me _easily_!” He retorted, a bit frustrated by the distrust. He’d done everything he could the whole night, helped where he could, made sure everyone was safe, and was nothing but honest, and the stickler was the disguise. “I feel like you of all people, _Not_ , you should understand not wanting to people to know what you really look like! I didn’t freak out on _you_!”

“Alright, ladies and gents, calm down,” the purple tiefling spoke, putting himself between the two of them, no doubt noticing the goblin baring her teeth at the newcomer. “I see nothing wrong with our new friend keeping watch with the two of you tonight, so long we get to ask our questions when the others return.” _Gods_ , he was really appreciative of the other tiefling man. As strange and manipulative as he was, he at least seemed to have _sense._

“Let me tell you this,” Caleb began, speaking up about the dodecahedron. The newcomer began to check out again, not wanting to think much further about the object, knowing he was already on edge and that _thing_ certainly wasn’t helping. His familiar purred her amusements.

The men, aside from him, then hid the object, preparing to go upstairs. That is, until the two arcane user’s uncomfortable shifting grew too much for the red-haired man. “I really think we should stay down here with it.”

No longer wanting to fight it, the more colorful man nodded, along with the goblin. “One of you, if not both of you,” he urged, glancing between him and the girl. He partly felt left out, but he understood the situation that much not to press it. They continued to think on it.

“Alright. I’m staying here for now. You have anything you want me to identify, leave it, I can do that. You know what I have, I’m not leaving.” There seemed to be something behind his words as he stared between Not and Mollymauk, something that implied _more_ than the outsider could understand.

The smaller of the two piped up, reminding him that they had more information to learn from the others, but the wizard _insisted_ he stay for the time being due to his discomfort with the object. _Gods,_ he was even looking to the newcomer for help, if anyone knew the urge it was this stranger. The others saw this gaze, and they nodded, although they didn’t seem entirely okay with the idea. A bit of semantics were discussed, but the others knew that at the end of the night, the two who had identified the object were not abandoning it for the night- the only reason the newcomer was willing to leave it in the first place was his outsider status.

Returning to the shockingly bare tavern, the three sat at a table, facing the door so they had eyes on when their friends returned. The stranger held his celestial companion to his chest, unease needing him to do _something_ repetitive, and he figured tapping would quickly irritate everyone else.

_“Are you alright?”_ Ames purred, a glare given to her in response.

_You know what we saw,_ he told her, not a sound leaving his lips. _You know what we learned._

_“I do.”_ With that, she said nothing more, instead purring louder in an attempt to comfort him. Not noticed this, and raised her brow.

“You have a cat too?” Mollymauk hummed with amusement, and the newcomer nodded.

“She’s not always a cat,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “She’s an owl too. She’s a familiar, and my… my only friend.” She nodded, a hint of a smirk on her face despite the distrust.

“What’s her name?” The accented man piped up, and the younger man’s gaze flickered to him.

“Amethyst. Ames for short.” A silence fell over them, many questions sparking behind their eyes, but a reluctant patience kept them at bay. Thankfully, he had some time to think about his answers, and to calm down.

A small thump hit his knee from under the table, to his right where his fellow tiefling sat. He quickly glanced underneath, confused, before spying a small coin pouch wrapped in his tail. His eyes flickered to the purple man’s face and the pouch, an eyebrow raised as if asking for permission. He seemed to nod, and an idea floated in the newcomer’s head.

_“Are you sure?”_ The voice floated into the other tiefling’s mind. His red eyes darted towards the stranger’s lips before responding in kind.

_“You deserve pay for your work, even if it’s not much.”_ Opening the small sack on his lap, the newcomer saw the twelve gold they looted off of the now-dead drow. _“For your inks.”_ He wondered how the man knew of such things, but decided best not to question it, instead tucking it into his bag with the rest of his wares.

A few minutes passed before the happy-go-lucky tiefling girl skipped downstairs, a dance in her step despite the events of the night. Mollymauk easily spied her, waving with a wide smile. She noticed him and hurried over, peering at everyone across the table. She inquired the location of Caleb, and it was quietly explained. All her questions vanished, though, when her blue eyes landed on the tortoiseshell in the newcomer’s lap. “Oh! Kitty!” She moved over to sit next to him, reaching over to pet the cat. “You know, Caleb has a kitty too. His name’s Frumpkin.” He simply nodded, and the two of them gave her pets.

_“This one is a strange one,”_ Ames purred, and he had to suppress a laugh. She looked at him quizzically.

“What?” He shook his head dismissively.

“She said she likes you,” he lied, and her smile grew wider.

“Awh! I like you too, kitty!” Jester beamed.

_“Liar.”_

The newcomer was really starting to enjoy the company of these strangers.


	5. Interrogation and Initiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunited with the rest of the group, there is finally the chance to question the newcomer.

With the arrival of the final two, as well as a third person who the outsider had seen in the bar a few times, everyone decided to head upstairs to one of their apparently three rooms to talk. First order of business was going over what they had learned or done while separated, which then quickly devolved into a few shenanigans, wherein the goblin licked an iron safe and messaged the absent friend.

It quickly became clear they were being vague due to the newest invitee- other than him, as he didn’t count apparently. Second order of business was to figure out where to take the _new_ newcomer, but the outsider had no real suggestions. He was quickly ushered away, though, and the next order of business was determining what to do with the outsider. In order to do that, they had to ask questions. A lot of questions.

“Who are you, exactly?”

“I’m just a nobody adventurer. I’ve been here a few months, trying to find work and earn enough to find more material to learn. I… I’m a mage… of sorts…” Of course, the vagueness of the answer lead to more questions.

“What do you mean, ‘of sorts’?” Ford asked that one, interestingly enough.

“I’m a warlock. My Mistress helps… free my mind so I can understand her arcane teachings better. She doesn’t mind if I pick up materials from elsewhere, though. Hence the ink.” He’d made eye contact with Mollymauk when he said that one.

“Who is your Mistress?” Jester asked that.

“It’s a strange thing to explain… she’s… she’s a god. Ioun,” he admitted, which caused everyone to grow a bit confused.

“Then why aren’t you a cleric?” She followed up.

“Because I’m not… it’s not like that. I don’t serve her, or under her, or worship her. She’s…” He sighed, trying to find the words. “Gods for their clerics are just that: a leader and their servant. Due to their worship and belief, their gods grant them abilities. With Ioun and I… it’s more like a tutor and a student. She helps me where I fail, teaches me things to make my studies easier.”

“Why would she just… do that?” Not piped up on that one.

“I don’t know.” It felt like a lie when he said it, but it was the truth. “She’s just… she’s always been there, ever since I was young. I… I think it might just be that I tell her stories. Not… not _her_ stories, but I tell her stories of mine. She’s the knowledge goddess, so stories are interesting. Maybe in exchange for those stories, she helps me make more?” A shrug. “I don’t know other than speculation.”

“Wait, so if you’re a warlock, how were you able to cast spells that only I know as a cleric?” Jester piped up.

“My Mistress gives me a spellbook. Part of our agreement is that she taught me a few basic spells that are unique to other types of casters. One of the ones I was interested in was being able to… help others not die, I guess. I can’t heal, as much as I’d like to, but I can make sure they don’t bleed out.”

“So is that how you were able to help Caleb with his spell before?” Beau piped up this time.

“Essentially. It’s also how I am able to have Amethyst.” He pet his familiar as he spoke. “I can’t just _cast_ it like he does, though, I can only do it as a ritual. I can even learn other spells like that if I take the time to find them, hence why I’m trying to earn money.” The others nodded, somewhat content with those answers.

“Why did you follow us into the sewers?” Mollymauk inquired.

“Look, I’m not the smartest,” he admitted with a _hmph._ “I’ve been seeing you guys around, and it’s not everyday you see a colorful bunch. You bought a lot from Pumat’s, so I figured you had to be adventurers too. So because I’d made that association, I just… I dunno. When everything went to shit, I trusted you.” Everyone seemed to have unsatisfied looks on their faces, but Jester nodded.

“I believe them.”

“Alright. Why are you lying about what you look like?” Beau sharply asked, and his head sank with discomfort.

“I…” Everyone could sense the discomfort. “It’s not for nefarious reasons. For all intents and purposes, this _is_ what I look like. I just…” He really, _really_ didn’t want to have to wave away the disguise. “It’s a gender thing,” he admitted, although not admitting the full truth. Mollymauk’s eyes seemed to light up at that, and he nodded. “I… I don’t look like how I think I’m supposed to. So… She gave me the ability to. At least… to most people.”

That seemed to surprise everyone. That clearly wasn’t the answer they were expecting.

“W-wait. If that’s all, why didn’t you want me to touch you before? If it’s mostly you, then there shouldn’t be much disparity, right? Am I missing something?” The last part seemed directed to the room.

“Why don’t you have tusks, half-orc?” He retorted, trying to convey the discomfort of explaining that. He didn’t _want_ to admit he wasn’t tiefling enough, he didn’t want to explain the trauma he’d experienced back in Trostenwald. “It’s none of your business, but it’s not a secret that’s going to hurt you guys or anything. Don’t touch me, and we’ll be fine.”

A few seemed a bit dubious with that answer, namely Jester and Mollymauk, but neither of them were willing to push the issue. Instead, she just smiled brightly, and glanced around. “Is that all?”

“No. What do you want with us?” Beau spoke up, a strange venom in her voice. He cowered away from her a bit, not wanting to poke the bear.

“I… I want to join you guys. Even before tonight. You guys… you seem to trust each other. I want that too.” It was such a simple, yet heartfelt answer, that it put most of them off guard. Silence filled the room, at least until Ford coughed.

“Well… um… is that all we’ve got?” It seemed so, and his gaze fell carefully on the newcomer. “Well… alright. I think I speak for _most_ of us when I say... welcome to the Mighty Nein. I’m Ford- with a j-“ That _baffled_ him.

“What the fuck do you mean _with a j_?!” Nevermind the fact there were only six prior.


	6. Primer Final

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the whirlwind of events that was the previous day, the newcomer gets a chance to breathe and process what happened.

The darkness of the cellar was a strange, but familiar comfort. Even despite his ability to see, it was limited, and the sensation of incomplete knowledge that he could _control_ brought him some satisfaction.

Nott and Caleb were across the room, dodecahedron nearby, having already laid themselves to rest after a heartfelt conversation. Raelan had experiences one too many overheard intimacies for one night, so instead he ushered himself in a corner with a crate and his leather tome. Still he watched from the corner of his eye, inscribing the tale of his experiences as he perceived satisfactory.

Even after they had long since rested, he saw their unconscious bodies, curled against one another, and longed for that kind of… intimacy? He couldn’t find the word, but he understood the longing in his chest all too well. It was the feeling that drove him so far from home, all by himself, due to the mistakes he had made.

Just as the ache in his chest began to drown him, he was pulled from this thought by a small tingle on his forearm. At first, he was alarmed, but quickly realized it was his feline friend headbutting him, having sensed the sadness weighing him down.

Without a word, he lifted her onto his chest, leaning backward onto the ground. Running his fingers through her long fur as he stared towards the ceiling, hoping to soon get some rest. The path ahead was going to be long, especially with these six new allies he’d have to grow new relationships with.

He was excited, yet terrified.


End file.
